


Kakhol

by CommanderTeatime



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Blue - Freeform, Canon Jewish Character, Character Study, Daylighter Simon Lewis, Judaism, Multi, Vampire Simon Lewis, color symbolism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 04:54:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15878970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommanderTeatime/pseuds/CommanderTeatime
Summary: It's hard for Simon to think of all that he's survived in what feels like six years, but has really been a number of months. He holds his prayer shawl in his hands, discolored with grave dirt.





	Kakhol

**Author's Note:**

> That feel when you start a character study focused on Shadowhunters and their culture but decide to write about a Jewish vampire and his beautiful werewolf girlfriend instead.

It had meant prayer once, the cloth in his hands now dirtied by the filth of his own grave. Simon had kept it in an old shopping bag until Luke had been kind enough to let him move into the boat house. He had then moved it to an old shoe box and when Simon had learned of the power of graveyard dirt while trying to track down Camille with Magnus, he had upgraded his security system with a piece of duct tape that he had promptly dropped on the floor before trying to stick onto the box. 

When he had moved in with Jordan, he had kept it under the bed, right underneath the top so it was only a foot or so away from his head. He only felt comfortable at night knowing it was close, an arms reach away, the only thing that connected him to his mundane life, to G-d, to his blessings. 

Simon sat on his bed and tried not to think about how easily Heidi could have crossed the line. He held the box in his hands, running his fingers over the stripe of duct tape that didn’t secure it closed anymore, and tried not to think about how he had treated his tallit. 

He lifted the lid of the box carefully and took the dirtied fabric out, running his fingers over it as he had when it was given to him. It was supposed to have been given to him by his father when he had turned thirteen, one of the markers of becoming a man, but his rabbi had given it to him instead. 

All of it felt so distant now. 

He wondered how G-d felt, a vampire holding onto something so holy, yet personal. Simon smoothed out the fabric, the dirt felt dry against his skin, and somehow not so special or magical.

Simon stretched out on the bed, laying his head down against the comforter while his fingers continued to stroke the fabric in his hands. The tallit had been so comforting once, a reminder of prayer nights with his mother and his sister, blue candles in front of them, looking up at his mom with a soft smile as he read through the familiar Hebrew that he had learned and studied with a passion.

He thought about how much he missed his mother’s challah, how much he missed Bubbie’s cooking. 

“Whatcha got?” 

Simon jumped a little, sitting up to find Maia a few steps away, a smile on her face because she had managed to sneak up on him again. He sat up and considered shoving his tallit back in the box, closing it with the worn out duct tape and placing it off to the side, just like he had done with his faith. Instead, he let his eyes fall back on the fabric in his hands, folding it carefully. 

“It’s, uh, just,” Simon looked up at her a little. “It’s something from before, it’s… a prayer shawl.” 

Maia sat down next to him, her eyes also on the fabric. “Can I see it?” 

He handed it over carefully, “Clary buried it with me, so it’s… kind of dirty.” He couldn’t help but laugh a little at that, at how much it meant despite its condition. He wondered if she had remembered how they had buried his dad with his tallit, laid out over his shoulders. Somehow, knowing that  Clary  had made the decision to do it, to follow through with his faith, his traditions, it all made him feel so much more connected, like his old life had been rooted into his new one. 

She was quiet, looking over the fabric, her fingers gently brushing over the textured threads that had once been white with their dark blue stripes. Maia touched it carefully, as though it would fall apart in her hands, as though she was holding something so much more important than his tallit. 

“I can’t imagine how hard it is being Jewish and a vampire.” Maia looked up from the fabric that rested in her lap. She exhaled softly, folding it neatly, much neater than Simon could’ve managed. “It’s hard enough being a Downworlder, but… being told that you’re disgraced, that… that you…” She couldn’t find the courage to finish her thoughts, almost afraid of making the words real. 

“It’s not so bad.” Simon accepted the prayer shawl from her, tucking it back into the Adidas box and securing the lid over the top of it, tucking away his own history, his true self and all that came with it. “I’ve found ways to… to do what I did, but in my own way.”

Maia put her hands on the lid of the box, “You don’t have to hide it, Simon.”

He softened, looking up at her. “I, I do. It’s covered in grave dirt. It’s how I summoned Camille, before, and Heidi, she can summon me with it, if she finds it.” 

“Then we’ll have to find something better to put it in, maybe a better box.” She took the box, resting it on her lap. “I think it deserves something better than an old shoebox. At least, something blue? Maybe with the Star of David?”

Simon smiled, a warm feeling, hope, maybe, blossomed inside of him. “Yeah?”

Maia smiled, moving in closer to kiss him. “Yeah.”


End file.
